


June 2018

by babybrotherdean



Series: 365 challenge: 2018 [6]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 15,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: Collection of 365 ficlets for the month of June.





	1. One-Hundred Fifty-Two: Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should tell me about yourself, Mr. Padalecki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Android AU again.

“You should tell me about yourself, Mr. Padalecki.”

Jared stops in the middle of what he’s doing, looking up from the TV to meet Jensen’s eyes. He seems to have run out of chores with which to occupy himself, the house fully tidied and dishes washed after dinner. The user manual sits on the coffee table, dog-eared throughout the bits he’s read so far. It’s dense material, sections of it cluttered with technical jargon, but he’s doing his best.

“About myself?” Jared repeats, confused. Jensen smiles at him. “What for?”

“So I can learn to better assist you.” Jensen gestures towards the TV. “What sorts of things you like to watch, your favourite foods, your favourite places… that would all help me a lot.”

“Huh.” Jared nods slowly, remembering something he’d read. “You… change to suit my needs. Is that right?”

“Yes, exactly.” With a nod, Jensen turns to face him once more, hands clasped together. “I can be whatever you want or need me to be. That’s my purpose, Mr. Padalecki.”

Something about that rubs Jared the wrong way. Of course he’s heard the stories, people using their synthetics for more depraved purposes. They don’t feel pain like people do, and they’re programmed to obey their owners without question. It leaves room for a lot of abuse. “What if you don’t want to do something?”

Jensen blinks at him. “I don’t have wants. I’m just here to fulfil yours.”

Yeah. Yeah, something about that doesn’t sit right at all. Jared frowns and looks away, needing a moment to remind himself that Jensen is a machine. He looks human, and he sounds human, but at the end of the day…

“Right. Um…” Jared clears his throat gently. “Sorry. You- you wanted to know about me?”

Apparently unfazed, Jensen moves right along. “Whenever you’d like to tell me.”

Jared thinks he needs some time to think, so he shakes his head, already feeling bad about it. It’s not like Jensen’s going to ask him for much, right? He should be able to do this much. “Maybe later tonight?”

“Of course, Mr. Padalecki.”

With that, Jensen leaves the room, apparently on the search for some other way to occupy himself. Jared looks to the TV again, still frowning, but he can’t make himself focus, his thoughts moving in circles about Jensen and other androids and how he’s supposed to feel about it all. How he’s supposed to act. After all, how is he supposed to treat somebody who isn’t even human? Who will never, ever tell him ‘no’?

Maybe he should’ve thought about this a little bit more before diving in head-first. He’ll have to pick it up quickly from here on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	2. One-Hundred Fifty-Three: Dizzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ll like it,” the vampire whispers in his ear, and its breath is hot on his skin where its lips brush his throat and Dean feels like he’s going to throw up. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A 6.05 thing.

“You’ll like it,” the vampire whispers in his ear, and its breath is hot on his skin where its lips brush his throat and Dean feels like he’s going to throw up. “I promise.”

When the fangs piece his skin, he mostly just feels numb.

The fight drains out of him along with the blood, and he can’t struggle anymore; can’t do a damn thing to try to protect himself. And Sam’s out there somewhere, he knows, maybe looking for him, maybe caught up in something else (he’s seemed different, recently, seemed wrong in a million different ways and it makes Dean’s skin crawl and he hates it), but it doesn’t matter in the end because right here, right now, when Dean needs him most-

The vampire’s grip on him tightens, and then it’s shoving its bloody wrist against his lips and forcing him to drink.

Yeah. Yeah, throwing up sounds good right about now.

Dean’s so lost by the time it’s over that he doesn’t even notice when the vampire leaves him in that alley to die. His head is pounding, the world is spinning around him, and he tastes copper and bile on his tongue as his stomach rebels against him. Distantly, through the haze of streetlights and the overwhelming state of his entire existence, he can see something- a shape, like maybe a person, like maybe somebody’s come to help him- but he’s too far-gone, so deep in his own head and dizzy with what’s just happened that he can’t help but regress, his brain putting together the pieces of its own accord and bringing a name to his lips.

“Sammy?”

Everything goes dark after that, and he doesn’t have time to process the look on his brother’s face.

_(Why is he smiling?)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	3. One-Hundred Fifty-Four: Hovering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared won’t stop hovering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire AU again.

Jared won’t stop hovering. He’s hasn’t left Jensen’s side since they checked out of the hospital, and though it isn’t terribly out of the ordinary- he’s always clingy, and always in Jensen’s space- there’s a distinct difference between his usual hands-on behaviour and this new brand of protective closeness.

They leave late in the evening- a necessity, of course- and Jared drives them home, a wheelchair loaded in the back for Jensen’s benefit while he recovers. Jensen hadn’t even been aware that Jared owned a car, but he decides to store that away to ask about later. It’s a quiet ride, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he keeps his eyes down and his hands in his lap, admittedly relieved to be returning to somewhere familiar and safe.

The wheelchair, as it turns out, is unnecessary. Jared doesn’t so much as allow Jensen’s feet to touch the ground between the driveway and their bed; he scoops Jensen right out of the passenger seat and carries him inside. Jensen thinks it paints a funny picture, wearing bandages instead of a wedding dress, but he likes being held like this and holds on tight the whole way. He knows that nobody can hurt him while he’s in Jared’s arms.

“How’re you feeling?” Jared asks him quietly once he’s set Jensen down in bed. His brows are pinched together and he’s about as somber as Jensen has ever seen him, the same way he has been since arriving at the hospital to begin with. It’s a jarring change from his usual behaviour and Jensen doesn’t like that he’s the cause of it. “D'you want your painkillers?”

Jensen shakes his head. Mostly because he knows they’ll make him drowsy and he’s not ready to fall asleep just yet. He can live with the discomfort for a little longer. “Are you okay?” he asks instead. “Are you- you know-”

Jared hasn’t left his side since showing up in the hospital. It’s something that’s been at the back of Jensen’s mind for days, wondering how- or if- Jared’s been feeding himself. He doesn’t know all the details about how often his boyfriend needs to feed, or how much blood he needs to stay healthy, but it can’t be good to go days without a drop, right?

If Jared’s any worse for wear, though, Jensen can’t tell by the look of him. The constant low lighting of their home doesn’t help. “I’m alright,” Jared tells him, but Jensen frowns. “I’ll manage.”

“You need to eat.” Jensen tries to sit up, but Jared’s hand on his chest makes it harder than it should be. “Just- here. Use me. You can’t starve yourself.”

“Jensen.” Jared doesn’t speak until Jensen stops trying to move. “You’ve barely got enough blood for yourself right now. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Jensen tries to insist. He catches Jared’s wrist in the curl of his fingers, but the hospital bracelet he’s wearing doesn’t help his case. “Just- take a little bit. Please? I’m worried about you.”

Jared watches him closely for a moment before carefully moving onto the bed. He ducks his head down until his lips brush Jensen’s throat, and Jensen shivers instinctively. Tilts his head to the side. Waits.

Jared presses a tiny kiss to Jensen’s pulse point. “I’m fine,” he says softly, and then he’s sitting up, pulling away. Jensen doesn’t want him to go. “I promise.”

It’s not a fight Jensen can win right now, so he focuses on something else. “Stay here?” he asks, and it shouldn’t be necessary, but he wants to make sure. “I just- I-”

“Yeah.” Jared doesn’t need more than that, and he settles in the bed once more, shifting until he’s got Jensen in his arms. Jensen huffs out a relieved breath and closes his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

With that reassurance, and the comfort of being back in his own home, Jensen allows himself to slowly fall asleep. He’s still worried about Jared, and there’s still something inside him that needs to be addressed- fear, he thinks, and maybe paranoia that’s tied to that- but right now, more than anything, he needs rest.

Unconsciousness is a welcome escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	4. One-Hundred Fifty-Five: Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared has never seen Jensen quite this restless before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another vampire!Jared thing.

Jared has never seen Jensen quite this restless before. He usually sleeps soundly, apart from some nonsensical mumbling from time to time, but right now- right now, he’s noticeably distressed. Tossing and turning, brow furrowed, making tiny, helpless sounds- it’s all setting Jared on edge, leaving him itching to do something, anything that might help fix this. He considers waking Jensen, at first, maybe offering him some of his painkillers again- it could just be that his injuries are making it hard for him to settle down- but he thinks of something else, instead. Something that might be a little more effective.

He doesn’t think Jensen is aware of the full extent of his powers. Mostly because he’s never asked; Jared hasn’t made any attempt to be secretive about what he can do, but compulsion in particular hasn’t come up in any of their interactions thus far. He almost feels bad for even considering it, having spent years agonizing over the moral implications attached, but one more look at Jensen- Jensen who’s already suffered so much over the past several days, who can’t even get a sound night’s sleep right here and now- is enough to convince him it’s worth it.

It’s not terribly often that he uses this ability to its full extent. He’ll pull it out on occasion when somebody sees something they shouldn’t- or, more recently, when a nurse had tried to inform him that visiting hours were over and he needed to leave- but it goes much deeper than simple influence. He can tap right into peoples’ minds, sensing what’s there as he works to mould it. With Jensen right now, it’s probably for the best; Jared can’t say for sure what’s got his boyfriend so unsettled, but this is a surefire way to find out and soothe him all in one fell swoop.

He shifts into a upright position beside Jensen in bed, turning to just watch Jensen’s face for a moment. Slowly, he reaches out and cups Jensen’s cheek, feeling his pulse as the blood works its way through his body. Jared takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in the rhythm as he slips into Jensen’s mind, ready to solve whatever problem has taken up residence there.

What he finds isn’t surprising, but it does make him angry.

_“I told you to empty your pockets.”_

It’s fuzzy the way that nightmares always are, but it’s grounded in reality, too. A memory. Maybe not one that’s entirely true to life, but Jared takes one look at the scene through Jensen’s eyes and knows exactly where he is. Three attackers, weapons in hand. A back alley, nowhere to run. Nobody to call to for help.

Jared can’t bear to watch the full attack play out, so he only stays long enough to memorize their faces. To get a faint impression of the scent they each give off- dulled by human perception, but more than enough for Jared’s purposes.

It’s easy enough to coax Jensen out of the dream, filling his head with safer, friendlier images instead. The two of them together at home, curled up on the couch. Jensen fighting to stay awake, Jared teasing him about it. He can feel Jensen’s consciousness settling around him, calming down with the familiar setting, and as soon as he’s content with it, Jared starts to pull back, returning to reality with a sharp exhale.

Jensen sleeps soundly, but Jared isn’t done yet. Not when those men are still roaming the streets, alive and well after leaving Jensen so bloodied and broken. He knows for a fact that the police haven’t managed to find them, and he knows from experience that the chances they’ll be apprehended by the law drop with every hour that passes.

It doesn’t matter, though. Jared knows who he’s looking for.

He can deal with this himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	5. One-Hundred Fifty-Six: First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time passes, the distance between Jensen and his partner continues to shrink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the dragon AU and. THINGS

As time passes, the distance between Jensen and his partner continues to shrink. Jared’s in his human form almost all the time now, the only exceptions being when they need to fly somewhere or when it’s safer for him to stay a dragon. He feels less like a companion and more like a friend; the best friend that Jensen’s ever had, and something deeper than that, too. Something he struggles to put a label on or even acknowledge. He tells himself it doesn’t matter; he doesn’t need to examine this any more closely than he already has. He’s happy, Jared’s happy, and as long as they stick together, everything will turn out for the better.

It works right up until it doesn’t.

Maybe the physical closeness has always been pushing some kind of unspoken boundary. Jensen doesn’t have much experience with other relationships like theirs, between dragon and human partners, but maybe it isn’t entirely normal to be so- so intimate. Maybe the fact that they’ve settled into this pattern where Jensen fits himself into the crook of Jared’s arm when they sit, where the distance between them is as a constant minimum- maybe it’s something he should be examining more closely. Or the way his stomach twists itself into knots when Jared smiles at him. Maybe it isn’t typical.

Maybe, when Jared leans in close one evening, the two of them alone but for the millions of stars in the sky overhead, Jensen’s reaction shouldn’t be to meet him halfway and press their lips together.

None of that seems to matter, though. Everything slots into place all at once, and Jensen doesn’t hold himself back, wrapping his arms around Jared and holding on tight. If Jared’s surprised by his enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it, one hand tender and warm on Jensen’s cheek as the kiss goes on for a few more seconds. It’s chaste, at its core, but Jensen feels like he’s bursting, chest warm and full as he struggles to contain the flood of emotion it brings- his own as well as Jared’s.

“Hey,” Jared whispers against his lips, and Jensen doesn’t want to pull away, but he needs to breathe and Jared is trying to speak. “Hey, is- is this-?”

“Yeah.” Jensen nods quickly, and he doesn’t loosen his grip on Jared because a tiny part of him is afraid that this is going to end before it gets a chance to start. He doesn’t have a chance at holding Jared here if Jared decides he doesn’t want to stay, but Jensen can’t help himself. “It’s- yeah.”

They don’t really need words to communicate, between the flow of understanding that constantly passes between them and the expression on Jared’s face that mirrors what Jensen feels in his heart. He still doesn’t really know what to make of this, something new and fragile and confusing, but- but maybe it doesn’t need to make sense. Maybe it’s okay to just wing it for now and figure things out as they go.

Maybe it doesn’t need to be typical to be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	6. One-Hundred Fifty-Seven: Brownies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mama,” Dean says, and Mary blinks back into focus, meeting his questioning gaze. “D'you think it’s done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a soft thing with Mary and baby Dean.

Dean’s been working away for almost twenty minutes as he tries to perfect his brownie batter, sitting at the table with a bowl that’s too big for him and a spoon that’s not quite big enough. He’s got a deep furrow in his brow as he concentrates, and his tongue is poking out, and his little brother is seated in the high chair beside him with a pinch of cocoa powder on the tip of his nose.

Mary smiles at the picture they make, more than a little amused and wondering if she ought to go fetch the camera.

“Mama,” Dean says, and Mary blinks back into focus, meeting his questioning gaze. “D'you think it’s done?”

She steps closer to take a look into the bowl, humming thoughtfully. The batter’s smoothed out, finally, and she dips a finger in to take a taste for herself. “You know what I think it could use?” She pauses, then grins. “Chocolate chips.”

Dean’s face lights up and he nods happily, already scrambling down from his chair, mixing bowl still clutched to his chest. “Yeah!”

Mary reaches the cabinet before he does and produces the bag of chocolate chips. Dean shuffles the bowl around until he manages to reach a hand out, expectant. “Do you want me to help, sweetheart?”

He’s already shaking his head, though, and Mary isn’t surprised. “Nuh-uh. I can do it!”

So she smiles and hands over the bag, hovering close in case the bowl of batter takes a dive. Dean manages just fine on his own, though, toddling back to the table so he can add a handful of chocolate chips to mixture. From there, he’s right back to stirring, and Mary settles back to watch once more, only pausing so she can preheat the oven for him. She’d made it very clear that she would be the one dealing with the actual baking, though she’s more than happy to let Dean lead the way for the rest of the job. It’s a box mix, so he really only needed to add milk and eggs, but he’s got such a big smile on his face that it doesn’t seem to matter.

“Done,” he declares, holding out the bowl proudly. “Done, Mama.”

Mary smiles once more and leans in to kiss his forehead, brushing a bit of batter off his cheek. “Let’s get it in the oven, baby. If we hurry, they’ll be ready right in time for Daddy to get home.”

Dean cheers, and they get the mix into a pan together, and Mary’s heart feels warm. Even Sammy helps out as best he can, slowly licking a spoon clean after Dean hands it to him. She’s got a bit of a clean-up job ahead of her- Dean might be enthusiastic, but he isn’t the tidiest baker in the world- but it seems more than worth it for the way her little angel is beaming at her.

Maybe she’ll buy a new cookbook when she gets the chance. If Dean has fun with this, then maybe they can learn together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	7. One-Hundred Fifty-Eight: Dozing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are fast asleep in the back seat, Sammy bundled up tight in his car chair and Dean with his cheek smushed against the window. Mary seems to have dozed off, too, breathing softly in the passenger’s seat. It’s late in the evening, stars sparkling in the sky overhead for the drive home, and John hums along to the radio, one eye on his sleepy family and the other on the road that stretches out ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft John + Mary + boys.

The boys are fast asleep in the back seat, Sammy bundled up tight in his car chair and Dean with his cheek smushed against the window. Mary seems to have dozed off, too, breathing softly in the passenger’s seat. It’s late in the evening, stars sparkling in the sky overhead for the drive home, and John hums along to the radio, one eye on his sleepy family and the other on the road that stretches out ahead of them. 

It’s been a long day on the road after a visit to John’s mother out west, and it’s a relief to finally pull into a familiar driveway, shutting off the engine and letting the silence wash over him for a moment. Mary’s already stirring, and John leans over to kiss her cheek before opening his door and climbing out. He takes a short moment to stretch, then turns his attention to the back seat where Sammy and Dean haven’t moved.

He gets Sammy first, because the car seat takes a moment to get undone, and then he pulls his youngest close, smiling when a tiny hand curls tight in his shirt. Dean’s easy enough to scoop up in his other arm, and he’s rewarded with some mumbled protests, even as Dean cuddles closer. They’re sweet, the both of them, and completely tuckered out after the day of travel. Time to get everybody to bed.

“Got them?” Mary asks him softly, and she’s out of the car now, looking tired but wearing a tiny smile on her face. John nods, and Mary turns back to the house to let everybody in, apparently just as relieved as John is to finally be home.

“Maybe they can stay with us tonight?” John offers on impulse, because their boys are tiny and warm and clinging to him tight, and it was hard on both of them when Sammy got his own room. “Just ‘cause.”

Mary just hums, and John takes it as an affirmative, leaving the both of them to head upstairs after kicking off their shoes. They’ve got bags in the car, but it’s nothing that won’t wait until morning, and before long, they’ve made it to the master bedroom, John only setting the boys down so he can help Mary get them into their pyjamas.

“Long day, huh?” Mary murmurs, and John smiles at her. “Let’s take it easy tomorrow.”

John curls up under the covers with the love of his life, their two little boys tucked away between them. He’s physically and mentally exhausted, but he’s got a couple more days off of work, and nothing to do with them than spend time with his family.

“Night, Mary,” he says softly, then ducks down to press a kiss to each of the boys’ foreheads. “Night, boys. Love you.”

Both of them respond with quiet breathing, so John closes his eyes with his arms wrapped around his family and lets sleep take him.

Yeah, this’ll work just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	8. One-Hundred Fifty-Nine: Bumps and Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You gotta be more careful,” Dean murmurs, and he keeps his eyes on his work, fingers deft and gentle. “You’re gettin’ all banged up, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weecest and stuff.

“You gotta be more careful,” Dean murmurs, and he keeps his eyes on his work, fingers deft and gentle. “You’re gettin’ all banged up, Sammy.”

Sam’s sitting on the hood of the car, legs hanging off the edge as Dean bandages up his scraped knees. Poor kid’s in the middle of a growth spurt; he’s getting lanky and can’t seem to stop tripping over his own feet in the meantime. Between soccer at school and training at home, he’s covered in bumps and bruises, and now after a tumble on the way home, a few scrapes to match. They’re not deep, and Dean’s done his best to be gentle, but he can tell by the way Sam winces when he moves his legs that they sting.

“S'not that bad,” Sam tells him, though, and he probably got that from Dean. “I’m okay.”

So Dean focuses on other things as he finishes with sticking on the bandaids and wiping up the dried blood. Like the sun beating down overhead, the hot surfaces of the pavement and the hood of the car. The fact that Sam’s still small, despite all the growing he’s been doing as of late, and that Dean can wrap his hand around his little brother’s ankle like it’s nothing, fingertips overlapping, and how that  _does_ things to him.

It’s always hard to stay focused when he gets to touch Sam.

He clears his throat like that’ll do anything to get these thoughts out of his head and makes sure that he’s finished what he’s doing. His hands linger just a second too long, fingertips brushing soft skin and yellowed bruises, and then he stands. Thinks that maybe he ought to take a cold shower when they get back inside. “I, uh- I think you’ll make it.”

Sam beams at him, and he looks so  _young_. Carefree and happy like he doesn’t know all the horrors of the world they live in. It makes Dean’s chest ache. “Thanks, Dean. And I’ll be more careful, promise.”

He slides off the car and hops to his feet, leaving him standing far too close to Dean, and before Dean can do a damn thing about it, Sam’s stretching up on his tip-toes and pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth, just a brush of chapstick-flavoured lips that leaves Dean blushing crimson. “Could we go out for ice cream before I do my homework? Please?”

And- fuck. Dean’s in no state to be refusing his baby brother anything.

The next kiss his gets tastes like vanilla, and it almost drowns out the overwhelming sense of guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	9. One-Hundred Sixty: Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hoodie is several sizes too big for him, dug out of the clearance bin of some secondhand store a couple states back. It’s worn soft, hangs down to his mid-thighs, and has sleeves long enough to completely hide his hands.
> 
> Privately, Dean is very fond of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soft thing, but also kind of a sad thing.

The hoodie is several sizes too big for him, dug out of the clearance bin of some secondhand store a couple states back. It’s worn soft, hangs down to his mid-thighs, and has sleeves long enough to completely hide his hands.

Privately, Dean is very fond of it.

He mostly keeps it stuffed in the bottom of his bag, the sort of thing he can’t wear out for fear of drawing unnecessary attention. He and his brother already get too many suspicious looks from teachers who notice their threadbare clothes, and he’s too wary of getting in some kind of trouble to risk it. Mostly, he pulls it out when he’s sick, something big and comfy he can curl up and be miserable in.

Today happens to be one of those days, but for a different reason than usual.

He doesn’t have a name for the feeling that’s weighing him down, making it feel like his body’s filled with lead. It saps his energy and makes every small task feel like an insurmountable challenge, leaving him burrowed deep in bed in the oversized hoodie. The TV is on, but he isn’t watching it, feeling distant and lonely as he stares at the ceiling. Sam’s still at school, and Dad’s working a case in the next town over. He hadn’t even bothered calling in and claiming to be sick; it was too much work, and it’s not like his attendance record is going to do him any good down the road.

Dean feels empty, and he doesn’t like it one bit. It’s all he can do to hide here, curled up small in the hopes that maybe it’ll pass him by.

He has no sense of time passing until the door opens, Sam letting himself in with an inquisitive “Dean?” He must’ve been waiting to meet after the bell rang, and Dean feels a pang of guilt for not telling his brother he’d gone home so early. “You okay?”

Dean doesn’t have a good answer for that, so he shrugs, pretending he’s paying any level of attention to whatever show has started playing in front of him. “I dunno. Maybe.”

That seems to be enough for Sam to worry, because he abandons his bag by the door and doesn’t waste any time in crossing over to climb into bed beside Dean. He’s small for his age, still, thirteen years old and forever waiting on a proper growth spurt, and he doesn’t have any trouble wiggling his way into Dean’s arms, demanding attention. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” Dean thinks it doesn’t count as lying, because he doesn’t know what the problem is. Still, it seems to help when he pulls his little brother closer, holding him tight. “Just tired.”

Sam falls quiet, and he’s got that look on his face he gets when he’s confronted with an especially difficult puzzle, so Dean leaves him to it. He glues his eyes to the TV and listens to his brother breathing, taking some small measure of comfort in the fact that he’s no longer alone to deal with- with whatever this thing might be.

“Love you,” Sam tells him a few minutes later, and Dean takes a deep breath. “Feel better.”

Dean does his very best to take that to heart. “Yeah. You too, Sammy.”

For now, it’s all he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	10. One-Hundred Sixty-One: Chalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sees the box of sidewalk chalk at a dollar store when he’s looking for some candy to bring home for his brother, colourful and appealing, tucked away in one of the very farthest aisles. He considers it for a few moments, glances at the price tag, and then brings it to the cash along with everything else he’s gathered, thinking it might be fun for a sunny day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A soft Weechester thing.

Dean sees the box of sidewalk chalk at a dollar store when he’s looking for some candy to bring home for his brother, colourful and appealing, tucked away in one of the very farthest aisles. He considers it for a few moments, glances at the price tag, and then brings it to the cash along with everything else he’s gathered, thinking it might be fun for a sunny day.

Sam falls in love with it on sight.

“We can really just… draw on the pavement?” he asks, wide-eyed and clutching the box to his chest. Dean grins at him and leads the way out into the parking lot, because it’s mostly empty and he thinks it’s probably safer than the road. “Whatever we want?”

“Whatever we want,” Dean agrees, and he plops down beside his brother so they can start marking up the ground. The sun is high overhead, and the asphalt is warm underneath them, and it’s easy to settle down right there, crack open the box, and get to drawing.

Sam’s got a bigger imagination than Dean does, going straight to drawing a whole range of different creatures. Butterflies, bumblebees, cats, dogs. A pretty rainbow, a sun that matches the one in the sky today, some fluffy-looking trees. Dean sticks to what he knows; he carefully traces out the shape of the car, then adds some clouds to the skyscape that Sam has created. There’s no rhyme or reason to what they’re doing, and that makes it so much easier to just get lost in it.

The motel manager wanders by at one point, a kind older woman who makes them promise not to draw anything profane and then brings them each a cold can of soda. Dean doesn’t know how much time they spend there, shuffling along the edge of the parking lot to find blank space whenver they get close to running out of room. Flowers and cookies and nonsensical polka-dots join their mural; a smattering of birds not long after. A little collection of stick-figure people start to crop up, too. Dean doesn’t label them, but he draws his family beside the car- him and Dad and Sammy, and even Mom, with her pretty blonde hair and a happy smile. If Sam notices, he doesn’t say anything about it.

By the sun the sun is starting to sink down towards the horizon, they’ve filled a sizable chunk of the parking lot in their doodles, silly drawings in every colour of the rainbow that bring the dark asphalt to life. Dean’s exhausted when he stands, and his hands are chalk-stained, and he thinks he’s probably got a sunburn. But Sam smiles at him, big and tired and cheerful, and they’ve still got a lot of chalk left over for tomorrow.

“We’re artists,” Sam tells him, matter-of-fact, and Dean grins and ruffles his brother’s hair and drags him back inside so they can order some dinner. Privately, he thinks that maybe Sam is right.

Mostly, he takes away that it’s fun to just be a  kid every now and again. Maybe they ought to do this kind of think more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	11. One-Hundred Sixty-Two: Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s unseasonably cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to that AU where J2 are small and at school and friends and stuff.

It’s unseasonably cold. After weeks of sunny skies and sweltering heat, a seemingly endless cloud bank has drifted along to turn the day into something miserable and grey, and Jensen finds himself fighting off shivers at recess, wearing just a soft t-shirt. He’d thought about asking his teacher to stay inside- to read, or to do his homework, or to wipe down the chalkboard, or anything to stay where he could be warm and sheltered from the wind- but she’d looked tired and stressed as it was, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was burden her further.

So here he is, sitting by his usual tree, arms wrapped around his legs and waiting for his best friend to arrive.

“You look cold!” And Jared’s right on schedule, trotting over and wasting no time in plopping down right beside Jensen. He’s got his brow knitted together in apparent concern, and he shuffles right up close, never mindful of personal space. It doesn’t bother Jensen one bit. “Where’s your sweater?”

Jensen just shakes his head at that, because he’d been running late this morning and it hadn’t even crossed his mind. He regrets it now, curling in tighter on himself and resting his chin on his knees. “At home.”

Jared frowns, and without missing a beat, he starts to wrestle his way out of the hoodie he’s wearing. It’s red and soft-looking, and Jensen doesn’t understand what’s going on until Jared’s freed himself and is suddenly offering it up. “Here. Put it on.”

“But…” Jensen doesn’t know what to say, just staring at his newly-sweaterless friend in confusion. “Then you’ll just be cold.”

“Nope.” Jared shakes his head adamantly, pushing the hoodie into Jensen’s arms. “I don’t get cold. Never ever.”

Jensen finds that hard to believe, but he sees the conviction in Jared’s expression and decides it’ll be better not to start an argument. Slowly, he uncurls himself enough to pull the sweater on over his head, very quickly discovering that it’s big on him. He’s almost drowning in it, and when he finally gets himself sorted out, he finds Jared beaming at him, stifling giggles. “What?”

“You look cute,” Jared tells him in that matter-of-fact way he has, and Jensen tries very hard not to blush. “And small!”

“M'not small.” Jensen gives a tiny huff as he settles down again, and already, he feels so much warmer. There’s the sweater, of course, but there’s Jared’s lingering body heat, too. Like a hug, all around him. “And, um… thanks. This is better.”

Jared smiles at him again and then settles right by Jensen’s side, pressed in close like he’s intent on sharing his own warmth, as well. Jensen decides he’s completely happy with that, and they pass the rest of their time outside just talking quietly. Jared doesn’t ask for the sweater back, and Jensen wears it back to class, snuggling into it and bunching up the sleeves in his hands and feeling very, very safe and very, very loved.

(And if Jared smiles extra big whenever he looks at Jensen that afternoon- well, that’s just a nice bonus.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	12. One-Hundred Sixty-Three: Sleeveless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared Padalecki in a sleeveless shirt is every single kind of unfair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hot out and. Jared's arms are distressing.

Jared Padalecki in a sleeveless shirt is every single kind of unfair.

It’s a sweltering day, with the sun beating down overhead and the air thick enough to drink. It’s not quite enough to stop the usual pick-up game that happens out on the far edge of campus, a dozen guys who show up every week at the court to throw a ball around and blow off some steam. Jensen’s shown up at a handful of them, dragged along by a couple of his friends, but he knows for a fact that Jared is a regular, possibly because of how hard it is not to stare whenever he’s nearby. He’s big, for starters, and drop-dead gorgeous: between the sunny smiles and the big laugh and the way he lightens the mood of the group just by existing, Jensen might’ve developed a tiny crush on him.

What’s even more distressing is the fact that he looks really, really good when he’s sweating.

And okay, yeah, it should be gross. They’re playing shirts and skins to make up for the weather, and Jared’s in an old wife-beater that’s all but plastered to him; he’s got a sheen to his skin that Jensen knows well from a childhood full of Texan summers. He stops every now and again to grab a hand towel he’s left on the sidelines, wiping down his face and neck, and Jensen hopes he hasn’t been too obvious with his staring, but.

But God, Jared’s arms.

It’s hardly been a secret that the guy is jacked, but the up-close and personal view Jensen gets while they play- he thinks he could stare for hours, watching the way Jared’s muscles flex under his skin. The veins that stand out when he moves in a particular way. It’s mesmerising- embarrassingly so- and more than once, Jensen catches himself getting lost in it.

Unfortunately, Jensen isn’t the only one who notices.

“You alright?” And of course it’s Jared asking him, probably wondering why some stranger is looking at him all slack-jawed. “It’s Jensen, right?”

“Um.” Easy question, Jensen. “Yeah. Uh- yeah, that’s me. Sorry, I, uh-”

Jared’s standing too close for Jensen to think straight. The game’s winding down, all of them tired out more quickly than usual thanks to the heat, and thankfully, nobody else seems to be paying them any attention. Not that it makes this much better, especially with Jared standing so close and so much of his skin on display and- fuck. He’s speaking again, and Jensen can barely follow along. “-pretty bad, right? Can’t wait to get back to the AC at home.”

The sun. Right. “Uh- yeah. Really hot.” He clears his throat and glances away, like maybe not staring Jared in the (broad, firm, sweaty-) chest will make it a little easier to form real sentences. “Just haven’t been drinking enough water. I’m good.”

“Oh, yeah. Alright.” If Jared notices Jensen’s distress, he doesn’t make a comment about it. That’s the other thing about him: he’s nice to a fault. It doesn’t take long to pick up on. “Make sure you stay hydrated, yeah? The sun can really mess with you otherwise.”

Jensen manages a smile when he looks up again- big, really, really big- and nods. “Yeah, I will. Um… thanks, Jared.”

He gets a blinding smile in return, and Jared gives him a friendly nudge. Jensen’s heart almost stops then and there. “You got it. See you next week?”

If there was any doubt in Jensen’s mind about coming here again, it evaporates on the spot.

“For sure, yeah. I’ll be there.”

Maybe this will get a little easier to deal with over time. Or maybe Jensen will combust the next time Jared makes eye contact with him. Whichever comes first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	13. One-Hundred Sixty-Four: Sleepy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a very, very good day when Dean discovers how quickly his little brother will fall asleep if somebody is playing with his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft brothers.

It’s a very, very good day when Dean discovers how quickly his little brother will fall asleep if somebody is playing with his hair.

He finds out completely by accident, the two of them watching TV after a long day in the sun and exchanging quiet conversation. Dean’s stretched out along the full length of the couch with Sam resting against his chest, already looking sleepy, and when one of Dean’s hands finds its way into his brother’s hair, Sam’s eyes slip right shut and he’s out like a light by the time they hit the next commercial break.

It crops up more often once Dean figures it out, making sure to use it whenever he gets the opportunity. On long nights in the motel room, or when they need to catch a few hours of rest before hitting the road, or most often- right now, even- in the back of the car, when the sun has set and the highway is empty and all they’ve got ahead of them is a few hundred miles of road to cover.

Dad’s quiet up front, and he’s got the radio on some soft rock station, the usual go-to when they need to drive through the night like this. Sam’s already slumped against Dean’s side, and Dean holds him close, his chin resting on his brother’s head, watching the scenery pass them by as he starts petting his fingers gently through Sam’s hair.

“How much longer?” Sam asks him quietly, and he’s already halfway gone by the sound of it. He’s got his nose pressed into the hollow of Dean’s throat, and Dean shifts to pull him a little closer, closing his own eyes as well.

“Few hours,” he mumbles, and scrapes his fingernails lightly against Sam’s scalp. “Get some rest.”

Sam falls asleep right there in Dean’s arms, and Dean isn’t far behind him, either, holding his brother close and letting the rumble of the engine soothe him. It’s easier to just let the time pass this way, and he’s happy to do whatever it takes to make Sam’s sleep just a little bit sounder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	14. One-Hundred Sixty-Five: Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another vampire AU one.

Jared finds them at night, which is probably for the best.

He spends a couple of days snooping around, as best he’s able without alerting Jensen. It’s not hard to find the men, and it’s not hard to get a handle on their habits. They meet for drinks a few times a week at some dive in the seedy part of town, which is perfect for what Jared has in mind. Nobody to stir up a fuss when they hear a disturbance. Nobody to call for help.

It’s the night of the new moon, the only illumination coming from the flickering street lights. Jared had slipped out as soon as he’d been sure Jensen was asleep; he’s gotten better at settling down now, and the medication helps keep him under. The doors are locked, and their home is safe- besides, Jared doesn’t intend to be gone for a very long time.

He lingers in the shadows outside of the bar until the three men walk out the front door, obviously drunk. An added bonus; he could take them down in his sleep, if that was something he still did.

They’re laughing, the three of them, loud and obnoxious, and Jared allows himself a moment to just watch. These are the men that cornered Jensen and left him to die. They’re the ones who hurt the most important person in Jared’s entire life, who scared him so bad he could hardly sleep in those first few days. The people who signed away their right to live as soon as they laid a hand on somebody so good.

This won’t take very long.

“You fellas goin’ somewhere?”

It takes them a moment to react, slow and confused. Jared speeds up the process by stepping out of the shadows, watching them all closely. They’ve got no reason to recognize him, so he doesn’t bother waiting for a reaction. “I think we need to have a chat.”

“Who the fuck are you?” one of them asks, and Jared glances at him. A little older than Jensen, probably. Not particularly easy on the eyes. “What do you want?”

“You hurt somebody that I care about very much.” Jared steps forward, smiles. “And y'know, I’m really not too pleased about that.”

He doesn’t give them any more time to think that over. No sense in playing this risky.

He moves faster than the human eye could ever hope to follow, grabbing the three of them and yanking them away from the building. There’s an alley out back, dark and secluded, and Jared knows for a fact that nobody will come out here until early tomorrow morning. Plenty of time for what he has planned.

Jensen had been right to worry the other day. It’s been almost two full weeks since Jared has fed, and he’s just found himself three perfectly good human-sized juice boxes to suck down.

It’s quick and it’s messy. He doesn’t give them time to scream; it’s easy to just break their necks and be done with it, though the third he leaves alive to drink in peace. It’s worlds away from what he does with Jensen; there’s nothing tender or intimate about the way he sinks his teeth into the man’s throat, ignoring the panicked gurgling and flailing hands that try to stop him. It’s brutal and he doesn’t stop until the flow of blood begins to slow, already thinned with alcohol and leaving him mostly sated. Doesn’t stop him from taking a drink from the other two bodies, just because. Just for the principle of it.

He doesn’t even bother to hide the bodies. Let them lay in the dirt and piss beside an old dumpster. Jared thinks it’s entirely appropriate.

He walks away with a full stomach and a tingling in the tips of his fingers, high on adrenaline and slipping back into the shadows for the trip back home. Jensen will still be sleeping when he returns, but he’s getting better every day. The world will be just a little bit safer in the morning, and Jensen will be able to rest knowing that his attackers will never hurt him again.

Jared’s going to try his damnedest to make sure that nobody else does, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	15. One-Hundred Sixty-Six: Fruit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not until they’re adults that Sam really notices the way his brother tends to hyper-focus on anything he’s working on at a given moment- most notably, when he’s reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a cute and silly idea from [womanoflettersinthebunker](womanoflettersinthebunker.tumblr.com) with brothers and. yes.

It’s not until they’re adults that Sam really notices the way his brother tends to hyper-focus on anything he’s working on at a given moment- most notably, when he’s reading. Dean’s not a big fan of research, typically, but if he gets deep into a book, he’ll be completely absorbed by it to the point of ignoring the world around him. He’ll mumble to himself, sometimes, or grunt at Sam if Sam tries to ask him a question, but until he’s done what he’s doing- or until Sam puts some real effort into bringing him back to the real world- he’s stuck there, seemingly intent on blocking out every possible distraction.

Shortly after Sam learns this, he decides to do a little experiment.

If what he’s looking at isn’t especially old, delicate, or valuable, Dean will sometimes eat while he reads. A bag of chips here, some popcorn there. Whatever he’s got around, and whatever he can eat with one hand while he uses the other to turn the pages. He doesn’t even seem to think about it, most times; Sam’s caught him coming up empty-handed from snack bowls only to reach inside again, apparently not registering that they’re empty at all.

So one day, Sam brings his brother an apple.

He doesn’t speak, knowing full well that Dean will probably not hear him. He’s got his feet kicked up in the library and an old mythology text in his lap, looking like he’s got no intention of leaving the well-creased chair that he’s claimed as his own. He doesn’t have any food with him at the moment, and Sam figures he can fix that.

Sam comes up beside his brother, Granny Smith in hand, and gently places in Dean’s free hand. He watches Dean’s fingers curl around it reflexively, and Dean doesn’t so much as glance up from his book- in fact, just as Sam steps back to watch, Dean lifts the apple to his mouth and takes a bite.

Sam grins and leaves him to it.

Dean doesn’t have the healthiest diet in the world- with every year that passes, Sam’s fear of his brother having a sudden heart attack increases further- but this quickly becomes Sam’s favourite way of getting some fruit and vegetables into Dean without needing to fight him on it. Dean never really seems to notice what he’s eating as long as he’s absorbed in a book, and Sam takes full advantage of it. For the good of his brother’s health, of course.

(It’s also the perfect opportunity to kickstart their old prank wars, should the need arise, but Sam decides to tuck that away for the next time Dean steals his nice shampoo.)

“You know, the weirdest thing happened when I woke up,” Dean tells him a couple weeks after it starts, and he’s got a furrow in his brow that’s more confused than concerned, and when Sam asks him what’s up, he says “I was really craving an apple, you know? Not a pie or anything, just… a  _fruit_.”

Sam snickers at the face Dean makes at that, then points him towards the fruit bowl.

Hell, it’s for the greater good. Even if he needs to be sneaky about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	16. One-Hundred Sixty-Seven: Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m fine,” Jensen tries to insist, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to discourage Jared from carrying him to the couch. “I can walk on my own, you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vampire AU again.

“I’m fine,” Jensen tries to insist, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to discourage Jared from carrying him to the couch. “I can walk on my own, you know.”

It’s been a couple of weeks since the attack, and Jensen already feels a lot better than he did. He attributes most of it to Jared tending to his every need at every hour of the day, always ready with medication or food or simply the reassurance of his presence. Even the nightmares seem to have stopped, for the moment, and his wounds are healing every single day.

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” There’s a hint of playfulness in Jared’s voice, and that in itself is a relief. Jensen’s been worried about him, not taking care of himself and putting on a much more serious, melancholy face than usual. He’s gotten better over the past few days, though, slowly getting back to the smiling and teasing and thoughtless affection that Jensen is used to. “You’re still hurt, so I’m still in charge of making sure you don’t get hurt any worse. Which means no walking.”

Jensen rolls his eyes at that, but he’s smiling when Jared sets him down gently on the couch. “I never imagined I’d be complaining about being waited on hand and foot, but here we are.”

Jared laughs and sits down beside him, pulling Jensen close as he offers up the remote. It’s late, and Jensen doesn’t expect to find much on TV to watch, but there’s no harm in checking. “I told you that you’d get sick of me sooner or later.”

Jensen turns on the TV and starts channel-surfing, giving himself a couple seconds to absorb what’s playing before flipping to the next option. “I didn’t say I was sick of you. Just the…”

He trails off in the middle of his sentence because he’s found himself a local news channel and Jared has gone stiff at his side.

“…found dead behind Shaw’s Bar. Police are stumped by the details of the gruesome murders, as all three victims were found to be completely drained of blood…”

“Let’s find something else,” Jared says, and his voice is off, and Jensen can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. They’re showing the crime scene, all lit up in flashing red and blue lights. Police tape. The bodies aren’t shown on screen, but photos of the three victims come up when it switches back to the news anchor. “This is just-”

“Jared,” Jensen interrupts him, and his voice comes out soft. The woman on screen is still speaking, but her words don’t really register, and he just watches her lips moving. “What did you do?”

Jared is silent for a few seconds, and eventually, Jensen manages to turn his head and look at his boyfriend. Jared won’t meet his eyes, and his jaw is tight, conflict in his expression. “The police weren’t going to do anything.”

It’s all the confirmation that Jensen needs, and he feels faint. Of course some part of him knows that Jared is- well, he’s not human; most people would be inclined to call him a monster. He knows, and he shouldn’t be as shocked by this as he is, but he just-

“You killed them.” He swallows hard and he’s shaking, confused and overwhelmed and- and not scared, exactly, not of Jared. “You went out and- and you-”

Jared looks up, finally, and he grabs for Jensen’s hands, and he’s so, so gentle. Jensen struggles to reconcile this with what the news anchor describes as an “absolutely barbaric crime.” None of it makes sense.

“I couldn’t protect you,” Jared tells him, and his voice has gone soft now, too. “When you got attacked, I wasn’t there. I couldn’t-” He stops. Swallows hard. “I couldn’t save you. But those men- I could still make them pay. I could make sure they never hurt you again, and… and I did.”

Jensen is at a loss. He can’t form the words to express what he’s feeling, every part of him just mixed up and confused, and Jared- Jared’s looking at him like he’s waiting for something. Like he’s the scared one, maybe, scared of what Jensen’s going to do now.

It doesn’t once occur to Jensen that maybe he should leave.

Slowly, he shifts closer until he can bury himself against Jared’s chest, hiding his face and closing his eyes. His grip on the remote has gone slack and he lets it slip out from his fingers, choosing instead to cling to Jared’s shirt. Jared’s arms wrap around him like he’s made of glass, and Jensen exhales.

“I’m sorry,” Jared whispers, and Jensen just presses closer. “I love you.”

That much, Jensen can work with. “I love you, too.”

Nothing, he thinks, will ever change that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	17. One-Hundred Sixty-Eight: Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn’t take notice of the date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny boys and John and. Sad?

John doesn’t take notice of the date. Not that it would’ve registered with him, anyways; he’s so deep in his own head these days that he can barely keep track of the month, let alone individual holidays. All of his focus is on survival, on constantly fighting past the weight on his chest that makes it so hard to get up in the mornings and harder to put a smile on his face for the boys.

Dean is the one who reminds him.

“Daddy?” he whispers, and it must be early; the sun is just shining against the curtains of the motel’s window, and John struggles to open his eyes. Sammy must still be sleeping, quiet in the little fold-out crib John bought a couple months back.

Dean is persistent, and when John doesn’t respond right away, he climbs up into the bed, little fingers curling into John’s shirt as soon as he’s close enough. The kid’s just five years old, but sometimes it’s easy to forget. “Awake?”

John huffs out a breath and manages to crack his eyes open, blinking slowly at where Dean has wiggled into his arms. He looks wide awake, and John wonders how long he’s been up. Usually, he stays in his baby brother’s crib right until Sammy begins to stir. “Yeah. Yeah, m'awake.”

Dean’s settled right on top of him now, tiny and warm, and he smiles. “Hap- happy Daddy’s Day,” he whispers, and it takes John a moment to process that as Dean snuggles in close, giving him a hug. “Love you.”

Father’s Day. That hits John somewhere deep, and he can’t breathe for a moment, remembering their celebration from last year. Sammy had been just little, but Dean had done exactly the same thing he’s doing now, crawling into the bed early in the morning and then sticking to John like glue for the entire day.

It’s not quite the same, though.

John swallows down the lump in his throat and pulls Dean close to him, trying not to think about all the ways that he’s failing. As a man. As a father. As the one person in the world who’s responsible for taking care of these two little lives. Somehow, despite the mess he’s made, he still gets this- little Dean demanding affection and offering warm, unconditional love.

He doesn’t know what to do with it all.

“I love you, too, buddy,” John says, and he sounds choked up even to his own ears, but there’s nothing to be done about it. He hugs Dean to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut, deciding that maybe they can take it easy for the day. The three of them can spend some time together as a family, clinging to what they have left in each other.

He might not be the best father in the world, but if Dean is still willing to give him a chance, then by God, John will keep trying. 

Even if it kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	18. One-Hundred Sixty-Nine: Overheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean thinks he’s about twenty minutes from spontaneous combustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brothers. Maybe Weecest-adjacent.

Dean thinks he’s about twenty minutes from spontaneous combustion. The motel’s air conditioning unit is fried, and between the sun beating down overhead and the ever-climbing levels of humidity, it’s all he can do to lie perfectly still on his mattress with no blankets to smother him and pray that it’ll rain sooner or later. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to take much more of this.

His little brother, on the other hand, seems to be entirely unbothered by it all.

Sam must’ve finished his homework, because he stands from his spot at the table and trots on over to plop down on the bed beside Dean, looking at him curiously. Dean cracks his eyes open and squints. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Sam watches him for a moment before flopping right down beside Dean, huffing out a sigh. “You look tired.”

Already, the heat coming off of Sam’s body is too much to deal with, so Dean makes a face and a half-hearted attempt to wiggle away. “It’s too hot. I’m dying.”

“It’s not that bad.” Either Sam doesn’t take the hint or chooses to ignore it altogether, wiggling closer until he’s tucked right up against Dean’s side, a living space-heater to add to the furnace that is their room. “You wanna go outside?”

Dean huffs and puffs and ultimately decides that he doesn’t have the ambition or the heart to shove Sam off the side of the bed. All the pouting afterwards just wouldn’t be worth it, even if he does melt right into the sheets now. “No. M’gonna nap.”

Sam sighs at that, but doesn’t move. “Fine. Later?”

“If it gets cooler tonight.” Dean’s already got his eyes closed again, feeling the way his shirt is glued to him with the sweat that’s gathered all over his body. Nice. “Maybe.”

That must be enough, because Sam quiets down and settles where he is, and Dean focuses on relaxing and trying to fall asleep. Even if Sam’s presence is probably going to give him heat stroke, Dean figures it’s not so bad. If nothing else, Sam’s a good nap buddy.

“We could get ice cream,” Sam offers suddenly, though he whispers it, and Dean huffs a laugh. “Then you can cool down, right?”

The kid’s nothing if not stubborn. “Deal. But after my nap.”

Sam responds by snuggling in closer, and Dean decides he can live with the extra warmth. No harm in sweating off a few pounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	19. One-Hundred Seventy: Star-gazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean thinks that they’ve picked the absolute perfect night to hike up to the old lookout point by the edge of town and do a little bit of star-gazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft brothers.

Dean thinks that they’ve picked the absolute perfect night to hike up to the old lookout point by the edge of town and do a little bit of star-gazing. There’s enough of a breeze to keep the bugs at bay, but it’s still comfortably warm, even once the sun goes down. Nobody else is out this late to see the way that Sam curls up at Dean’s side, tucking himself in close the way they always do when there aren’t any eyes on them.

“There we go,” Dean mumbles once they’re settled, and he’s brought a blanket along this time so it’s easy as breathing to lie back and hold his brother close as they look up at the sky. There’s not a cloud to be seen and the moon is waning, leaving the stars to stand out, clear as anything. “How many d'you think there are?”

Sam seems to consider that for a moment, and Dean feels the way his brother grips at his shirt. A habit that’s carried with him through childhood, and one that Dean finds endlessly endearing. “A lot. A million. Probably more.”

Dean hums and decides that counting won’t get him very far. Instead, he starts to follow the patterns they make, tracing out shapes with his eyes. He doesn’t know many constellations- there’s the Big Dipper and its baby brother and that’s about it- but it’s like cloud watching, he figures. Up to interpretation. “You see the big dog up there? Its tongue, and- and the tail?”

“Where?” And Sam presses closer as he tries to get a better look, and Dean lifts his hand to point. “I don’t- oh! Yeah, I see it now. He’s cute.”

It’s not a surprising response. “I think you should name him. Big sky dog. Bet nobody else has named him yet, right?”

Sam gets lost in thought as he tries to come up with a name for the dog, and Dean settles down again, letting his eyes wander. It’s quiet up here at this hour, with just the breeze rustling the trees nearby, and Dean’s not far from falling asleep. They ought to get back to the motel first, so they can at least curl up in bed, but-

Well. With beautiful night sky overhead and Sam pressed close to his side, soft and warm, Dean thinks it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	20. One-Hundred Seventy-One: Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been too damn long since they’ve been to a beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brothers at the beach. :>

It’s been too damn long since they’ve been to a beach. A  _real_  beach, with real sand underfoot instead of chunky pebbles, and real water to swim in that isn’t a few degrees short of being ice, and real sunshine overhead to keep them warm. Between the last few world-ending disasters and spontaneous resurrections, the Winchester vacation schedule has been placed firmly at the bottom of their list of priorities.

But today- today, Dean thinks the road trip is worth it.

It’s a perfect day, down in California, with a healthy handful of other beach-goers scattered across the sand. The waves are mild and the sun is warm and Dean is very, very thankful that they stopped to buy a big umbrella on the way down.

“You sure you’ve got enough sunscreen?” Sam asks him when they’re done getting themselves settled, and Dean makes a face. “You know what happened last time.”

“Shut up, I’m fine.” Most of Dean’s focus is on getting himself good and comfortable on his little fold-out chair. He’s wearing his swim trunks and a proper Hawaiian shirt; if they’re doing this thing, then by God, they’re going to do it right. “Sit. You’re stressing me out.”

Sam eyes him skeptically for a moment, but then gives up on the whole ordeal and takes the seat to Dean’s right. “Your funeral. I’m not rubbing you with aloe if you get cooked.”

Dean responds to that by reaching down and flipping open their trusty cooler. He hooks his fingers around a pair of bottles and gets both of them open before offering one to his brother. “Just enjoy the sun and sand, Sammy. Relax.”

He can just about hear Sam rolling his eyes, but they both fall quiet. Dean tugs his sunglasses down from their resting place on top of his head and closes his eyes, feeling warm and content and completely at ease.

This little trip might be a few years overdue, but it’s a hell of a lot better late than never.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	21. One-Hundred Seventy-Two: Gel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Dean feels like he needs the gel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just something silly I came up with when I was very tired. Weechesters.

It’s not that Dean feels like he needs the gel. Sure, some of the other kids at school have their hair slicked back or spiked up or styled in a way that looks nice, but Dean’s happy with what he’s got. He keeps his hair short just like his dad, and he’s content with that- more so because it’s astoundingly easy to take care of.

Still, when he sees a cheap bottle of hair gel at the convenience store, he can’t help but be a little bit curious.

He’s leaning in so close to the mirror that he’s probably at risk of smacking his nose against it if he sneezes. It’s not on his mind right now, though, all of his focus on the gel he’s gathered up on his fingers and is now carefully smoothing into his hair. It’s kind of exciting, though he doesn’t like the smell of it, and his yo fur pokes out between his lips as he does it up in careful spikes. That’ll look cool, right?

He forgets all about his little brother until Sam pokes his head into the bathroom, nosy since the day he was born. “What’re you doin’?”

Dean briefly considers hiding the bottle, but it’s too late to bother. “Nothin’. What do you want?”

Sam looks at him for a moment and squints his eyes like he’s thinking. Dean goes back to messing with the gel while he waits, trying to get it to look just so.

“You already look cool,” Sam announces, and then he’s moving in and giving Dean a tight hug before turning to retreat. “That stuff smells weird, anyway.”

He leaves Dean feeling dumbfounded and warm and a little bit silly. Looking down at the goop on his hands, the bottle on the counter, the clumpy mess his hair is trying to become- is it really worth all the effort?

He glances in the direction Sam slipped off to, then tosses the bottle in the trash.

He’s gonna need a quick shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	22. One-Hundred Seventy-Three: Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a long while after the fire, John can’t sleep by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and small babies and sad.

For a long while after the fire, John can’t sleep by himself.

It’s a myriad of issues that hit him hard; the loss of his wife, the loss of his family’s home, the sudden responsibility of being the sole caregiver of two young children, and his new awareness of the evil in the world. Every time he closes his eyes, there’s some horrible image waiting for him, Mary’s terror seared into his brain and a million other things doing their very best to make sure he never falls asleep again. The only cure for it, he finds, are a pair of tiny heartbeats.

Dean hasn’t been sleeping well, either, and it just makes sense when he first crawls into bed with John. He’s shaking, and his face is wet with tears, but he’s silent the way he has been since everything happened. John doesn’t need him to speak, though, just wrapping his arms around his eldest and hugging him close. Dean never wants to be separate from his brother these days, though, and it’s no surprise when he tugs on John’s shirt, looking towards the little crib.

The three of them curl up under the covers together, and John olds his boys close, feeling just a small bit safer knowing he’s got his family in his arms. Dean still shivers against him, and Sammy’s already dozing, and John just closes his eyes, letting out a quiet breath as he tries to make himself relax.

“I’m here,” he whispers, and he feels Dean’s little hands curling right into his shirt. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

It’s the only thing he can hope to promise them right now, when the entire world has fallen apart at its seams and all they have to cling to is each other. John still doesn’t know how they’re going to manage, not really, but as long as they’ve got this- this is what matters most.

They’ll be okay. That’s what he holds onto as he finally manages to drift off to sleep. Everything’s going to be okay.

He’ll make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	23. One-Hundred Seventy-Four: Fitting room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fitting room feels a whole lot smaller with two grown men jammed inside. Jensen has to bite down hard on his lip to stifle a sound when he knocks his head against one of the hooks, and Jared winces in front of him.
> 
> This whole “experimentation” thing might’ve been better in theory than practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A silly J2 thing.

The fitting room feels a whole lot smaller with two grown men jammed inside. Jensen has to bite down hard on his lip to stifle a sound when he knocks his head against one of the hooks, and Jared winces in front of him.

This whole “experimentation” thing might’ve been better in theory than practice.

“You okay?” Jared whispers, and he’s got a hand up to touch Jensen’s cheek even as he’s leaning in close again. And Jensen doesn’t want to dampen the mood- not when they’ve already made it this far- so he leans in, too, except he moves too quick and-

“ _Fuck_.” Their noses bump together a little too roughly to be cute. “Sorry.”

That just gets Jared laughing, and he actually manages to land a kiss this time- maybe an attempt to stifle himself- and Jensen can’t help smiling into it. It’s messy and uncoordinated and they break apart to breathe a couple seconds later, but it’s good. Comfortable. “Maybe- maybe this wasn’t such a great plan, huh?”

“Maybe.” Jensen grins and looks up at Jared, shifting to get his arms up and around his boyfriend’s neck. “Maybe we just need to find somewhere with bigger fitting rooms.”

Jared must take that as a challenge. His smile grows and he leans in for another one, their lips meeting more gently this time. “Maybe we just need to be more flexible,” he mumbles.

A fair point. “Only one way to do that, huh?”

They stumble out of their little stall with grins on their faces and struggling to stifle laughter, the both of them ignoring the questioning and knowing looks they receive. None of their business, anyways.

No harm in trying something new- even if it doesn’t go all that well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	24. One-Hundred Seventy-Five: Nesting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a few days before Sam starts to notice that his sweaters have been going missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Age swap and ABO. Omega!Dean and alpha!Sam.

It takes a few days before Sam starts to notice that his sweaters have been going missing. Probably because they’re just getting into the first days of summer, and Dad’s finally dragged them a little farther south to chase a lead about a pack of werewolves; he hasn’t needed any of his hoodies in weeks, but when he goes digging for a t-shirt one afternoon to find his bag suspiciously empty…

“Hey, Dean?” He glances towards his suspiciously quiet little brother, and Dean isn’t looking at him, apparently occupied with whatever he’s doing sitting on his bed. It’s one of the rare times they each get one to themselves, thanks to Dad being in the next town over, but Sam has a feeling it’ll become more common as Dean gets older and starts presenting with more omega traits. Dad already seems a little wary about the two of them continuing to share a bed. “You seen my old hoodie? The grey one?”

Dean seems rather intent on avoiding eye contact, and that just convinces Sam further that he has something to do with the sweater disappearance. “Um… nope. Haven’t seen it. Sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam watches his brother for a moment before standing to cross the room, raising an eyebrow as Dean scrambles to straighten out the comforter on his bed. It’s only now that Sam’s looking that he notices how lumpy it looks- like a few pillows have been stuffed underneath. “What’re you hiding over here?”

“Nothin’.” Dean proceeds to sit down right in the middle of his bed, on top of the lumpy covers and doing a very poor job of hiding them from view. “Maybe- maybe you left it in the laundry. Your hoodie.”

Sam doesn’t even dignify that with a response. When he stops at the edge of Dean’s bed, he picks on a shift in his brother’s scent- he’s nervous, which is plain as day on its own, but there’s a hint of embarrassment there, too, and it throws Sam for a loop. What’s Dean’s got to be embarrassed about? “Dean, c'mon. Just tell me what’s going on. Promise I won’t be mad.”

Dean eyes him for a long moment in that skeptical way of his, but then breaks eye contact again, looking down at his hands and shuffling in place. It’s weird to see him uncomfortable like this; the kid is usually full of bravado, all puffed up trying to impress their dad. It’s as endearing as is it, on occasion, frustrating. “It’s- it’s dumb.”

Embarrassed. Whatever the case, Sam knows he should handle this delicately. He sits down on the edge of Dean’s bed, noting the way his brother tenses slightly. “I don’t think so. I won’t laugh of anything, either, okay? You can tell me.”

Dean stays quiet, and Sam waits patiently. He’s curious to no end, but he knows Dean well enough to understand that pushing him isn’t always the right way to go. He’s rewarded a few minutes later when Dean finally speaks, quiet and uncertain. “I, um. I needed soft stuff.”

Sam doesn’t get it until Dean shuffles backwards, right to the headboard, and shifts until he can pull up the comforter to reveal what’s underneath. Sam’s hoodies are present and accounted for, along with a couple of Dad’s shirts, some towels from the bathroom, and an old, worn blanket that usually resides in the back of the car. It’s all carefully bunched together in a very deliberate shape, and as soon as Sam sees it, it’s easy to recognize.

“You’re nesting,” he says, and there’s surprise and amusement and fondness all mingling together in his voice, because between the nest itself and the way Dean’s cheeks are going pink, it’s precious. It makes his heart all but melt on the spot, and the embarrassment makes a lot more sense all of a sudden; Dean makes a lot of effort to hide some of his omega traits and tendencies, and nesting is right up there on the list of things Sam figures he’d rather avoid altogether. It makes Sam sad, but all he can do about it is try to remind his brother that he doesn’t need to be ashamed of any of it. “Are you-?”

“I told you it was dumb.” Dean’s back to avoiding eye contact, except now he’s shuffled into his little pile of soft things and seems intent on burying himself there, consciously or otherwise. It’s probably an instinctive search for comfort, and it makes Sam’s heart hurt. “Just- just forget it. You can have your hoodie back.”

Sam decides to ignore that altogether, instead taking the time to move closer as best he can without disrupting all of Dean’s work. Up close, it smells like home, a mingling of all kinds of familiar scents. “Dean, c'mon. Look at me? Please? It’s not dumb.” Dean doesn’t look up, so Sam sighs and keeps talking. “It’s totally normal, especially for an omega your age. Okay? You don’t need to be embarrassed. And you don’t need to hide it, especially from me.”

Dean stays quiet for a long time, and Sam watches him closely, worried. He’s about to speak again when Dean finally looks up, nervous and hopeful. “You… really?”

“Really.” Sam gives him a tiny smile and nods. “I mean, I wouldn’t hate it if I got some of my sweaters back eventually, but… they’re yours for now.”

Dean laughs, and just like that, the tension in his shoulders seems to dissipate. He smiles and settles down a little deeper into the nest he’s made for himself, looking content. “You can wear them sometimes. Whenever they stop smelling like you.”

That’s pleasing to hear for a reason Sam can’t quite put his finger on. He decides not to analyze it too closely; it’s easy to dismiss this kind of thing when most of his daily life involves trying not to be overly possessive of his little brother. It’s easy to get lost in the alpha hindbrain. “Deal.”

Dean smiles at him, and the two of them end up settling together on the bed, Sam eventually flipping on the TV to pass some time together. Dean seems much more at ease, occasionally making small adjustments to the nest he’s made for himself, and every single thing about it makes Sam feel warm inside. Dean deserves to have this for himself, even if just for a little while, and Sam will do everything in his power to keep his brother happy. Especially in little moments like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	25. One-Hundred Seventy-Six: Dirty & Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At fifteen years old, Sam still fits in Dean’s lap like he was moulded for this exact spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dirty. Teenchesters and Wincest.

At fifteen years old, Sam still fits in Dean’s lap like he was moulded for this exact spot.

He’s lanky and awkward after a series of growth spurts, so much more of him than they used to be and stumbling over his own feet like a baby deer. He seems so delicate like this, soft skin stretched over bony knees and shoulders and hips, like he might shatter if somebody’s too rough with him.

Lucky for Sam, his big brother is always gentle.

He’s got his thighs splayed wide across Dean’s lap, arms wrapped around his brother’s neck and clinging tight, breathless and needy with every inch closer he gets. Dean’s no better off; with one arm curled around Sam’s skinny torso and his other hand brushing soft bangs out of his brother’s eyes, he’s got his hands full trying to breathe around the kisses they exchange. The little glimpses of Sam’s face he gets in between tell him that his little brother looks  _damn_ good with his lips all spit-slick and bitten red, and he’s slowly becoming obsessed with it, with the way Sam gets so worked up for him.

Dean’s pretty sure he’s got a one-way ticket to Hell for getting off on this, but he’s over it.

“Dean,” Sam whispers between kisses, and he sounds absolutely wrecked. When Dean was his age, a stiff breeze was enough to get him going, so he can only imagine the effect that all of this is having. “Dean, please, just-”

“Just what?” Dean murmurs in return, and he hauls Sam just that little bit closer so- yeah, right there; that’s the friction they both need, and Sam cries out when Dean grinds his hips up into him. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“ _Please_.” And maybe Dean isn’t playing fair, expecting coherent sentences from his little brother right now, but it’s fun to tease. Besides, Sam’s trying damn hard, dropping his head down to Dean’s shoulder and shuddering hard when Dean’s lips move to the spot behind his ear, instead. “P- touch me, Dean, please, just-  _fuck_ -”

“Language.” But Dean grins against Sam’s skin and gets a hand down between them and-

“ _Dean_.” There it is. Dean curls his fingers around Sam’s cock through the shorts he’s wearing, doesn’t hold back as he starts working his hand against it. Kid’s still got some growing to do, and he’s already working with some impressive hardware. “God, I- God-”

“Just me,” Dean hums, and he lets Sam shake and shudder against him, lets him jerk his hips in messy little movements as he chases after his orgasm. Dean’s so hard he’s aching, but he can wait a moment, all of his focus right now on getting his little brother off. “Gonna come for me, Sammy?”

He doesn’t get a verbal response. Sam makes a strangled sound and presses harder against him, and Dean feels the hot spill through Sam’s shorts, and- yeah. Yeah, this is what he wanted. “That’s it, baby. Jus’ like that.”

He keeps moving his hand until Sam mumbles some kind of protest into his shoulder. It takes another moment before Sam works up the ambition to lift his head, and Dean just grins, incredibly pleased with himself. “You good?”

Sam responds to that by leaning in for another kiss, and Dean’s more than happy to accept that. Even better is when Sam starts moving his hips again, grinding down against Dean’s hard-on  _just_ right, and Dean- Dean doesn’t last very long after that, pressing up against Sam’s ass and moaning shamelessly when he comes. They keep rocking together for a few seconds after that before settling down, the two of them sweat-sticky and fighting to catch their breath.

Sam’s the first one to move, shifting around on top of Dean and making a small sound. Dean imagines that the mess in his shorts isn’t doing him any favours. “You’re gross.”

“You’re gross, too, squirt.” But Dean just laughs, sitting up and keeping Sam close. “C'mon. I’ll wash your hair for you if you wanna hop in the shower.”

It doesn’t take any more convincing than that, and Dean grins as Sam hops out of his lap and starts towards the bathroom. This, he thinks, is something he’ll never, ever grow tired of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	26. One-Hundred Seventy-Seven: Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s gotten pretty good at hiding the times he doesn’t feel so good. It’s usually nothing serious- the common cold won’t kill him- and letting Dad know he’s sick is just a whole lot more stress that the guy doesn’t need to deal with. He hunts monsters; he’s got bigger and better things on his plate than a case of the sniffles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small boys :>

Dean’s gotten pretty good at hiding the times he doesn’t feel so good. It’s usually nothing serious- the common cold won’t kill him- and letting Dad know he’s sick is just a whole lot more stress that the guy doesn’t need to deal with. He hunts monsters; he’s got bigger and better things on his plate than a case of the sniffles.

Sammy, though- Sammy always seems to know.

Dad’s out of town and Dean’s nose has been stuffed up for three days. The coughing starts not long after that, and then the achiness, and then he’s just doing his best to put on a brave face and keep going about his business without making a big deal of it. It’s going just fine, too- nobody at school seems any the wiser, and Dad hasn’t picked up on anything over the phone.

“You’re sick.”

Dean’s baby brother doesn’t get the memo.

It’s a weekend, and Dean might be taking his sweet time to get out of bed. It’s hard to convince his body that it’s worth the effort when everything hurts more than it has any right to, but he’s got Lucky Charms to pour and TV to watch. Important big brother stuff. Sammy’s too old to be sleeping in the same bed as him, according to Dad, but they get away with it more often than not, and that’s what’s got Sammy curled up all close first thing in the morning. Dean’s not about to let it go, though. Not that easily.

“What?” He wrinkles up his nose and gives Sam a half-hearted shove. Sammy doesn’t go anywhere, and Dean doesn’t make a second attempt. “Am not. You’re crazy.”

“You’re all warm.” Sam isn’t easily deterred. He gets right up in Dean’s space, pressing both tiny hands to Dean’s cheek and watching him intently. “Really warm. Toasty-warm!”

Dean shakes his head and huffs. “S'cause it’s hot outside. Duh.”

“And you’re all-” Sam pauses to sniff dramatically. “You’re sick!”

Dean considers pushing it a little longer, then abruptly decides that he doesn’t have the ambition. “Maybe. So what?”

“So you gotta…” Sam makes some vague gestures towards the bed. “You gotta get better!”

“I will.” Dean huffs once more and finally decides to just sink back down into the pillows. They’ve got nowhere to be today, and he knows that Sam won’t tell if they skip training for the day. “Just gotta wait.”

Sam wrinkles up his nose and then cuddles in close to Dean again, pressed right against his chest. Even with Dean’s overheated skin, Sam still feels warm in his arms and it’s nice. “You gotta sleep and stuff. And be cozy. And- and medicine!”

They’re short on that part, but Dean decides to stay quiet about it. “Fine. I’ll sleep a bunch. Okay?”

He’s rewarded with a beaming smile, and Sam hugs him tight. “Nap time?”

They haven’t even gotten up yet, but the heaviness of Dean’s eyelids makes it easy to agree. “Yeah, okay. Nap time, Sammy.”

It’s easy to settle down again, and Dean’s head already feels a little better just for the extra bit of rest. He’ll be over this bug in a few days, hopefully before Dad gets back, and they’ll be ready to go and leave it all behind them again.

Sam might be able to see through his little charade in these moments, but at least he tries to jump in and make things better, too. What else could a big brother ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	27. One-Hundred Seventy-Eight: Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tiny motel shower is definitely not big enough for a pair of grown men to share.
> 
> This does not discourage Dean from inviting himself in while Sam’s washing his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shower sex is complicated.

The tiny motel shower is definitely not big enough for a pair of grown men to share.

This does not discourage Dean from inviting himself in while Sam’s washing his hair.

“Need a hand?” he hums, because he’s got a plan for how to be smooth about this, and it mostly involves Sam falling for his expert tactics of seduction, as usual. Some casual touches here, some naughty kisses there… maybe Dean ends up on his knees and makes Sam forget all about his fancy shampoo for a while. Dean’s pretty good at making this stuff up as he goes.

The space issue, unfortunately, has not been factored into his plans.

Sam turns around too quickly, maybe surprised by Dean’s sudden appearance, and they’re so cramped that his elbow catches Dean right in the sternum. It drives the breath right out of Dean’s chest and leaves him struggling for air and stumbling back against the shower wall, neither of which in the exact context he’d been hoping for.

“Shit,” Sam says, and he’s reaching out and trying to steady Dean, and the tiles underneath them are slick and they’ve got no space to move and when Sam nearly loses his balance, it’s a miracle they don’t both fall and crack their heads open. Instead, they just end up crammed together in the corner where the walls meet, Sam barely bracing himself from squishing Dean completely and Dean still trying to catch his breath, eyes a little wide to match the dinner plates on his brother’s face.

Yeah. Totally not according to plan.

“Um… surprise?” Dean still tries for a grin, though, because he’s a stubborn bastard and he’s not about to let this opportunity go to waste. They’re both naked, the shower’s still giving them hot water, and- well. He’s pretty sure it’s not Sam’s third leg resting against his thigh. “Miss me?”

Sam stares at him for a few long seconds, then shakes his head and leans in for a kiss.

Probably safer to keep the shower PG for now. At least until they find one with a little more elbow room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	28. One-Hundred Seventy-Nine: Retirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam isn’t convinced of their so-called retirement until he slips into the bedroom late one evening and doesn’t wake Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little curtain fic?

Sam isn’t convinced of their so-called retirement until he slips into the bedroom late one evening and doesn’t wake Dean.

Both of them have been light sleepers since early childhood; between the training and the trauma, it’s hard to get a solid eight hours, especially with little disturbances and unfamiliar sounds factored into the equation. Sam’s used to coming to bed after a late night of research and finding Dean squinting up at him, sleep-mussed and wondering what took him so long. And Sam knows he’s the same way, too- he can’t count how many times he’s woken to the faint sound of his brother opening the door.

But tonight is a little different.

They’re getting older, and neither of them have been on a real hunt in years. They aren’t completely out of the life- not the way Sam always wanted to be, leaving monsters far in the rearview mirror- and they still help out other hunters when they can. The bunker has become a home base for a little collection of them, a research hub, a safe haven. The Winchesters have found themselves a little house in Lebanon, letting them stay close without being in the middle of the action, and a lot of hunters want their expertise when it comes to tricky jobs. But Dean’s got a bad hip, and Sam’s knees aren’t what they used to be, and they’re both starting to go grey, and that’s kind of the only thing Sam has ever wanted in his life.

This much- quietly closing the bedroom door behind him while he listens to Dean’s stifled little snores- he never even thought to ask for.

He’s still careful as he approaches the bed, wary of waking Dean and ruining the little moment, but sure enough, Dean doesn’t stir. He’s got his face smushed against a pillow and the blankets bunched up around his body. There’s a little bit of drool coming out of his mouth and it makes Sam smile.

Slowly, Sam joins his brother in bed, climbing under the covers and curving himself to fit against Dean’s back. Dean’s only response is to wiggle a little closer to the new source of heat, and Sam curls an arm around his brother’s middle because this is the only place he ever wants to be.

Sam falls asleep in minutes to the sound of Dean’s heartbeat and the tiny, comforting piece of knowledge that maybe they’ve really managed this. Maybe they really got away, after all these years. Maybe they’re finally safe.

Sam doesn’t stir once. He sleeps right through the next eight hours with Dean safely in his arms.

It’s never felt this good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	29. One-Hundred Eighty: Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You gotta be quiet for the movie, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small and soft boys.

“You gotta be quiet for the movie, okay?”

Dean’s taking his duty of introducing Sammy to the movie theatre very seriously. He’s been holding his brother’s hand since they left the motel, and now that they’re finally in their seats, he doesn’t see any reason to let go. Sam would probably bounce right out of his seat, otherwise; he’s bursting with excitement and it’s one of the reasons Dean’s making sure he knows all the rules. “People get mad if you talk and stuff.”

Sam nods, but he doesn’t seem to be paying very much attention. All of his focus is on the big screen in front of them, currently playing through some cheesy commercials. “It’s- it’s big!”

Okay, so Dean can’t really bring himself to be annoyed. Not when Sammy’s so cute. “Yeah. Really big, right?”

The two of them get settled down, and Dean opens up the little pack of chocolate nuts they got at the snack counter, and despite his own explanations, he continues to whisper to Sam as the previews start to play. “It’s really loud, too, but it’s really fun. And- and I like this movie a bunch. But if you get scared, I’m here, okay? It’s okay.”

Sam wiggles right in close, ignoring the arm rest between them. Dean doesn’t mind. “‘Kay,” Sam whispers, and he rests his cheek on Dean’s shoulder. “Love you, De.”

Dean smiles a little bit as the opening credits start to roll. “Love you, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	30. One-Hundred Eighty-One: Big Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean keeps very, very quiet when his parents get home. They’re busy, both of them; busy fussing over the tiny new addition to their family, whispering to each other excitedly, trying not to wake the baby while they ensure everything is exactly as it needs to be for him. They don’t seem to notice Dean at all, so he just does his very best to keep out of their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itty-bitty brothers.

Dean keeps very, very quiet when his parents get home. They’re busy, both of them; busy fussing over the tiny new addition to their family, whispering to each other excitedly, trying not to wake the baby while they ensure everything is exactly as it needs to be for him. They don’t seem to notice Dean at all, so he just does his very best to keep out of their way.

By the time everything has settled down, Mama is settled in bed with the baby so they can both get some rest, and Daddy finds Dean curled up on the couch. The TV isn’t on, but Dean stares at it, anyways, hoping that nobody will notice the way his heart is beating so fast. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous about all this, but he keeps it to himself, anyway. His parents have a whole bunch of other stuff to worry about now.

“Hey, champ.” Daddy sounds tired, but still happy. He’s got a smile on his face when he scoops Dean up into his arms, and Dean doesn’t waste any time before snuggling in close. With all the fuss over getting Mama to the hospital, he’s been pretty lonely. “You wanna come meet your little brother?”

Dean gets a funny feeling in his tummy at those words, but he nods anyways, clinging a little tighter. “Okay,” he says, and he hides his face against Daddy’s shoulder as he’s carried up the stairs.

“His name is Sam,” Daddy tells him softly as they go. “Little Sammy. He’s real sleepy right now, but he’s healthy, and your mom’s okay, too. Everything’s good.”

Dean nods again and closes his eyes. They’re at the bedroom door now, and he doesn’t know exactly what to expect when they go inside. Daddy doesn’t seem worried at all, reaching out to open the door without hesitation.

“Make sure to be quiet, Dean. Mom’s sleeping.”

Dean does as he’s told and keeps his mouth shut, opening his eyes once more when he feels Daddy crouch down. They’re at the side of the bed, and Dean sees Mama resting under the covers, breathing softly in her sleep. In her arms, there’s a little bundle of blankets with a tiny face poking out of one side.

“This is Sammy,” Daddy whispers, and he sounds almost as amazed as Dean feels. “Your little brother.”

Little brother.

Dean swallows hard, reaching out one hand until his fingertips brush the swaddle of blankets wrapped around Sammy. Even with them in place, he looks so small and so fragile, and Dean can’t help but wonder if he looked like this when he was a baby, too. He doesn’t think so. Sammy must just be special.

More than anything else, though, Dean can’t help but think about how Sammy is his. His little brother to take care of; to love the way that nobody else can. It feels important, like something vital has finally settled inside him, and he takes a deep breath.

Butterflies in his tummy. That’s how this feels.

“You’re a big brother now, kiddo,” Daddy tells him, and Dean gives a tiny nod. “Congratulations.”

Dean takes that title and stores it away, feeling the way his entire soul moulds around it like nothing else has mattered more than the connection he has to the tiny person in front of him. It feels exactly the way he thinks it’s supposed to, and he smiles a little bit, moving his hand until he can touch Sammy’s cheek.

“Hi, Sammy,” he whispers thickly, and then, “I’m Dean.”

The butterflies are still there, but he’s not nervous anymore. Not when he feels more sure about this than he’s ever felt about anything.

“I’m your big brother, and- and I love you a bunch.”

This is the most important thing that’s ever happened to him, and he clings to it with all his might.

He’s a big brother now, and nothing has ever felt more right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


End file.
